


Just This Once, Enough

by ichorwinged



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon, Trans Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Trans Male Character, maybe? it's intended that way but idk how clear it is. up to you, mostly for felix but it's mutual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:55:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28747302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ichorwinged/pseuds/ichorwinged
Summary: Sylvain wants it to be a good thing, really, he does. He wants for Felix to settle and allow himself to put the blade down for one moment and really, truly let himself rest, even if just in the small space they had before leaving the monastery and returning to a fragile postwar reality. But that’s just not how Felix is, never has been, quite possibly never will be. He doesn’t have a reason to start now.Felix does his post-war destressing with books in his room instead of a sword in the training grounds. Sylvain knows him well enough to know that means something's wrong.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 8
Kudos: 52
Collections: Fire Emblem Trans Winter Exchange 2020





	Just This Once, Enough

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EmptyOliveJar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmptyOliveJar/gifts).



> This is my gift for FETransHub's winter exchange, for EmptyOliveJar. Sorry I'm late, I've been pretty swamped lately unfortunately :( I haven't finished and published anything in forever but I hope you like it ^^
> 
> Prompt was: "Trans masc Felix where Sylvain tries to get him to take better care of himself and reminds him he still cares deeply about him. Maybe Felix finally gives Sylvain that hug he wanted after some mutual affirmation that they're more than they see themselves as. Can be romantic/platonic"

Felix decompresses with a dull blade and the straw innards of another innocent training dummy, if you could call working yourself to exhaustion and nearly collapsing onto a sandy floor any kind of relaxation. But he does it like clockwork, always has, after every exam, after every minor skirmish they were sent to as students, after every major battle they were sent into as soldiers. Logic follows that now, three days after returning to Garreg Mach with the war finally behind them, Sylvain would have had to carefully pry him off the floor of the training grounds to get him even a scrap of rest by now. He hasn’t. He’s checked, three times a day (once when he wakes up, again at dinnertime, and a third before he goes to bed) every day, and Felix hasn’t been there once. Sylvain wants it to be a good thing, really, he does. He wants for Felix to settle and allow himself to put the blade down for one moment and really, truly let himself rest, even if just in the small space they had before leaving the monastery and returning to a fragile postwar reality. But that’s just not how Felix is, never has been, quite possibly never will be. He doesn’t have a reason to start now.

Felix, as it turns out, has been holed up in his room doing goddess only knows what. Sylvain tries to give him space. He has a lot to deal with. Everyone does. Felix is trying to sort through it alone. Even if his method is different this time, it’s just what he does, but by the third day, worry wins Sylvain’s heart over, and he finds himself gently knocking on Felix’s door. The response is, to Felix’s credit, immediate. Less to Felix’s credit, it is:

“Fuck off,” short and sharp and, really, not at all unexpected. It’s a good sign, honestly, and Sylvain smiles at that. He’s seen Felix worse, and “worse” looks a lot more like silence and a barricaded door and real venom in his voice when Sylvain knocks for the fifth time.

“Relax, Fe. It’s just me,” Sylvain says, putting his hand on the doorknob, listening carefully, trying to judge if he should try to open it or actually leave as he’s being told.

“Yeah. Fuck off,” Felix gives Sylvain his answer, and Sylvain gently opens the door. Felix is curled up awkwardly at his old desk with seven books Sylvain can’t distinguish from the doorway and shooting him a damn death glare. “Are you stupid? I said, ‘fuck off.’”

“Yep,” Sylvain says, stepping in and pulling the door shut behind him, “you sure did. But I haven’t seen you in a few days, and you’ve apparently been hidden away here. Gotta make sure you aren’t about to keel over from dehydration or something.” Felix huffs, reaching for something on the ground next to him, just out of Sylvain’s line of sight. “Dude, it was a joke, you don’t need to --” Sylvain backpedals quickly because, hey, whoa, was Felix really about to pull a knife on him over that? Felix huffs again and shakes his head.

“Relax, I’m not... I have -- fuck,” Felix says, trailing off and frowning as he lifts a decidedly empty pitcher of water. “Shut up,” he adds, cutting Sylvain off before he can even start. “You’ve made your point.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Sylvain says, throwing his hands up defensively.

“You know what I meant,” Felix says, putting the container down and turning back to what he’d been reading. “I’ll get more when I get dinner. I can take care of myself. Leave me alone.” 

Sylvain just leans against the door, biting back a “Can you?” Instead, he says, “No, I think I’ll stay here. Like it or not, you look like you could use the company. Did you even eat dinner last night?” 

“Yes,” Felix scoffs. Sylvain clicks his tongue.

“Breakfast this morning?” he adds, and Felix frowns again, drums his fingers on his desk, as good an answer as any. “See? I’m not going anywhere. Otherwise, you’ll forget you need to breathe or something.” Sylvain pauses there, because, yeah, he usually had a pretty good read on what Felix was trying to say and when he actually wanted to be alone, but for good measure, he adds, “Unless you really want me to --”

“Fine,” Felix says, shaking his head and then, softer, “You can stay. Just... be quiet. I’m busy.” Sylvain nods, settles himself to just listen to Felix tap against the wood of his desk and mutter to himself while he reads.

“What are you so busy _with_?” Sylvain finally asks when Felix starts to write something down. “Like, are you studying for something? We graduated years ago. Byleth only kept giving exams before they put a fancy sword in anyone’s hands as a formality. Even then, the war’s over, so it’s not like that matters.” He tries to get closer to take a look, but Felix leans defensively over his work.

“It’s none of your business,” he hisses. Sylvain pulls over another chair and sits behind him instead.

“Fine,” he says, making sure to turn away from Felix so he can continue working unobserved. “Just don’t push yourself too hard.” 

“I won’t,” Felix says. “It’s not like you’d let me anyways.” He pauses then, turns to look at Sylvain, and adds, quietly, “Thank you.” Felix turns away again quickly, like he’s trying to hide the warmth in his eyes and smile on his face. Sylvain doubts most people would even notice them in the first place. Something in his chest jumps up at that. He’d hug Felix if he could, but he’d always been so cagey about touch. Sylvain’s not about to push it.

“Yeah, of course,” he says, settling for putting his hand lightly on Felix’s shoulder, waiting for permission to keep it there. When Felix reaches up, he expects him to slap his hand away. Felix just puts his hand on top of Sylvain’s for a moment, runs his thumb across the back of his palm, and returns to his desk. Sylvain’s heart does a flip at that, he thinks. He wants to pick Felix up now, drag him out to make sure he remembers dinner and get him to put down whatever he was working at and relax for even a minute, he’d certainly earned it, but whatever Felix was doing was obviously important to him, and Sylvain decides to run a hand soothingly up and down Felix’s back until sunset, at least. Or he’d planned to, until his fingers just barely caught on the edge of Felix’s chest binding under his shirt.

“Felix,” Sylvain says, before he has time to really think about it, “How long have you been wearing that?” Felix looks at him, baffled.

“How long have I been wearing...” Felix starts, trailing off as the question registers and instead going with, “Fuck.”

“Yeah, I had a feeling,” Sylvain laughs, earning a solid shove from Felix as he stands up.

“Shut up. You get distracted and forget basic shit all the time too,” Felix says as he navigates to his dresser, glaring at Sylvain as he continues laughing.

“Yeah, and you pester me just as much when I do. Just returning the favor, Fe.”

“Shut up,” Felix half-closes the drawer he’d opened. He wasn’t likely to go back and close it properly. Sylvain would get it later. “And turn around while I get changed.”

“What, not gonna throw me out of your room for it?” Sylvain says, pivoting to look at the books on Felix’s desk while he was distracted.

“I will if you’re going to be like that about it.”

“Fiiine.” 

As it turns out, Felix has seven separate, mostly introductory, books on reason magic at his desk, along with several pages of notes and messy calculations to accompany them. Was this seriously what he’d been working on for days? It was basic coursework, stuff most mages had to master before they could bring any magic to the battlefield. Honestly, he wasn’t sure Felix had done so, having been hurried into using combat magic near the start of the war, but he was more than capable now.

“What are you even working on over here, Fe?” Sylvain asks. “You wanna teach or something?”

“I thought I said it was none of your business,” Felix hisses, stalking back over.

“You did. I made it my business,” Sylvain says, “You’ve been at this for days. You know I worry about you, right?”

“You’re insufferable,” Felix says, pushing Sylvain aside to sit back down at his desk, hastily closing what he’d been reading before Sylvain could pry further.

“Love you too,” Sylvain says. Felix shoves at him uselessly for that. Sylvain waits for another response, but when Felix stays quiet, he adds, “Really, Fe, why are you so twisted up about this? I didn’t think you even liked magic.” Felix buries his face in one hand and groans. 

“It’s not about liking it.” 

“Then what is it about?” Sylvain asks once it’s clear that Felix has no intention of expanding on the thought on his own.

“You know what it’s about.”

“Felix,” Sylvain puts his hand on Felix’s free hand and laughs, “I really don’t. These are _the basics_. Why the hell have you spent days going _back_ over them? I really don’t think you’ll ever need to pick it up again. Even if you do, you’re already plenty good at it.” Felix draws in on himself just a little bit more, squeezing Sylvain’s hand as he does so.

“Sylvain,” he says, “I’m _not_.”

“You killed plenty of enemy soldiers without seriously electrocuting yourself or anyone else fighting with you. I think that’s good enough, and you’ve improved so much from --”

“That’s my _point_ , Sylvain.” Felix squeezes his hand, refuses to look up at him. “The only reason I was allowed to keep practicing was because we needed whatever we could get. No one with half a mind for anyone’s safety would’ve let me keep at it. I need to do better.” 

“Felix.” Sylvain gently grabs Felix’s face, forces him to look at him. “Yeah, that’s true. It was also, what, six years ago? So what if you had a slow start? It happens. You’re more than good enough now. Fuck, you’re as terrifying with it as you are with a sword at this point. You don’t need to keep pushing. Practice with me if you’re worried about staying sharp.” Felix fidgets, tries to say something. Sylvain stops him in his tracks. “We’re safe, Felix. Please let yourself rest. You’ve done enough. More than enough.”

Felix sighs and pushes away from the desk. “I’m not winning this argument, am I?”

“Mmm, no. I don’t think so.”

“Fine,” Felix huffs, pulling Sylvain’s hands away from his face. Sylvain tucks a stray strand of hair behind his ear for good measure. Felix huffs again. Cute. He stays silent a few more minutes, watching the sun start to set, and when he speaks up again, it’s so soft that Sylvain almost misses it.

“Sylvain?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. I mean it. I know I can be...” Felix pauses, looking for a wording.

“A stubborn jackass who refuses to listen to people trying to help?” Sylvain offers.

Felix elbows him in the ribs.

“Fuck off. But yeah, something like that.” Felix takes Sylvain’s hands gently. “I really do mean it, though. Thank you.”

Something in Sylvain panics a little at that. He couldn’t pinpoint quite what, but he yanks his hands away all the same, mourning the loss of contact, waiting for Felix to reprimand him for it. Felix doesn’t, though, just gives a gentle, concerned look that only tightens the anxiety in Sylvain’s gut. He tries to play it off with the first thing that comes to mind.

“Hey, it’s about all I’m good for, isn’t it?” 

Felix does reprimand him for that, just a sharp “Sylvain.” and a kick in the shin, to which Sylvain cries out dramatically.

“Watch it! I can’t _believe_ I might end up with bruises for making sure you take care of yourself,” he says, joking, but Felix takes him at face value -- he should’ve expected it, honestly.

“Fuck, was it that hard? I didn’t actually mean to --” he starts apologizing immediately, and it’s sweet and honestly endearing and Sylvain feels the knot in his stomach twist that much harder for it.

“No, no, no, it wasn’t, you’re fine, I was joking, sorry, I should’ve been clearer --” it all tumbles out at once, and Felix cuts him off this time.

“Oh. Sorry.”

“No, it’s my fault, I --”

“Sylvain.” Felix just takes his hands again this time. “It’s alright. Don’t worry about it.”

“Right.” Sylvain doesn’t pull away again, just squeezes Felix’s hands once, looks over at the corner of the room. “Sorry.”

“ _Sylvain_.”

“Sorry --” Sylvain starts, the look on Felix’s face stopping him before he got stuck in a loop of apologizing for apologizing for apologizing and --

“Are you okay --” Felix starts but, goddess, Sylvain’s dragged them into a mess of unfinished sentences and apologies and maybe-subpar communication now, hasn’t he?

“You deserve better,” he blurts out, tries to pull his hands away. Felix grips them tight and, fuck, dude, that kinda hurts a little, but Felix relaxes it as soon as Sylvain takes the hint and stops trying to curl in on himself.

“Do I need to have the same argument with you about being enough? I will. Gladly. And you won’t win it this time.” Felix is deadly serious, his brows furrowed and face stern. Sylvain laughs at that. Felix glares at him. Sylvain laughs more.

“No. I guess not. Thank you, it’s just... There’s better than me out there.” Felix opens his mouth, and this time Sylvain stops him before he can even get a word out. “And don’t say there’s no one better. You can’t possibly know that.”

“Fine,” Felix says, “Then I don’t _want_ better. I want you. You know I like a challenge.” He frowns as soon as the words are out of his mouth. “Sorry. That’s awful phrasing. You’re... the sweetest, most selfless person I’ve ever met,” Felix fumbles out quickly, blushing for no clear reason other than “praise and kind words fluster me to say,” which is, honestly? Adorable. “I mean, most people would’ve given up about three ‘fuck off’s ago.”

“Aww, you were counting?” 

“ _You_ were counting?”

“Well, yeah, at five, I know something is _really_ wrong.” (Felix promptly tells him to fuck off a fifth time, but, well, the context is different now, so it’s fine.) “But I know what you meant the first time,” Sylvain laughs again, yanking Felix close. “I’ve spent 24 years learning to translate you, Fe. I think I have it figured out by now. Dumbass.”

“Jackass.”

“Yeah. Yours?”

Felix gives it a second, like he’s thinking about it. Sylvain’s not sure he actually is. He almost definitely isn’t, truthfully.

“Mhm. Mine.”

Sylvain does hug him then, pulls him even closer without thinking, squeezes him tight, tighter for a moment when Felix doesn’t pull away, actually _relaxes_ into it, and, saints, Sylvain would love to hold him for longer, but by now it’s gotten dark, and...

“You still haven’t gotten dinner.”

Felix tells him to fuck off a sixth time, but gets up to remedy it anyways.

**Author's Note:**

> Sylvain has adhd and Felix is autistic and both of those things are a lot of fun when it comes to things like "remembering to eat while working on a project." Am I projecting? Maybe
> 
> I'm on Twitter at [grandxmus](https://twitter.com/grandxmus) :3 Comments/kudos are appreciated ^^ Also, lemme know if formatting or grammar is funky/there are typos/whatever else. It's very late rn and I'm half-awake and don't have the stamina to proof it rn, but if I don't post this now, I might forget when I get up, lol (see: I have adhd) <3


End file.
